Dark Side of the Moon
by FrankandJoe3
Summary: Tim was shot and Dick decides to exact revenge. Dark!Dick


**I was watching Hannibal Rising and suddenly felt sadistic, so I typed this up. Listened to "The Winter" by ****Balmorhea**** to keep my mood up. It faded off near the end, but I still hope it's acceptable.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the mentioned characters, easily told by how OOC this is. **

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The smallest of a smirk ran the length of Dick's lips and he let a shallow chuckle pass before he fell back into the haunting silence, standing to his straightest posture and bringing the knife just before his eyes. The domino mask may have shielded the navy blues, but it was clear from the way he delicately let his tongue wet his smirk that he was tracing the shine of the blade clear down to its hilt.

Before him, bound mercilessly to a small wooden chair was just another nameless baddie who had dare let his barrel aim the direction of the boy that the ebony had deemed family. His sweet little Tim, with a smile like a guilty pleasure, now lay beneath the hospital whites as he waited for the gunshot wound to his shoulder to heal. Now, it was his duty to exact his revenge.

The man only sneered despite his current situation, struggling only slightly against the ropes now as he seized up the vigilante. From his confidence, he seemed to think this masked stranger was of no threat to him. He even dared to let out a laugh of his own, mockingly getting comfortable in the chair.

"Who are you kidding, boy? Put the knife down before you end up hurting yourself," the man's nose crinkled, "Can't even send the big bat after me. Says a lot about how you all feel about your baby bird."

The smirk on Dick's lips faded with him into the silence and he lowered the knife to his side, face going completely void of all else but the domino mask. His head tilted and he walked up to the gunman, stopping just a foot from his knees and staring hard at him. A minute stretched on until the man began squirming, the stare creeping just under his skin.

"They all laugh, you know," Dick finally spoke, twirling the knife like a baton around his fingers without having to spare it a single glance, "All of the baddies I'm up against—they laugh when they see me. How could a little grunt like me ever compare to the strength of the bat? Even tied down, they all think they can take me out. Do you think that? Do you think you could take me out?"

The man's sneer returned and he nodded without needing a second to think on it.

"I could take you on easy. I don't need my hands to get you down," he boasted proudly, ducking his head down to his shoulder to rub out an inch on his beard.

The words twitched a smile over Dick's lips and he nodded slowly, taking the words in and letting them stew over in his stomach. It almost seemed to please him.

"That's what I love about you all. You're so _stupid_," the ebony spat, stopping his twirl on the hilt and raising the knife so the blade was pointed skyward, "You see... I said all the others thought they could... and yet, I still stand here, not a bruise on me. Did you think to ask what happened to them?"

The sneer faltered and Dick siphoned it away with his own little smirk until he was dead in the face again, stepping just a bit closer now.

"There's a reason Batman sends _me_ after the rats that think it's okay to hurt my family," he deadpanned.

Without further explanation, he raised a gloved hand and grabbed the man's jaw tight, squeezing until his lips were forced outwards. The jaw bucked in his hands as the man struggled to free himself, but Dick's grip only tightened until he stopped fighting. When he stilled, he lifted the knife and gently touched the tip to the underside of the man's chin.

"You see... Batman has this rule where... well, he doesn't like getting blood on his hands. It's a pain to clean," the ebony continued, pressing the knife just barely into the pale flesh, pooling blood around the shine of the blade and earning a muffled grunt from the bearded man, "but I don't have any rules like that."

Not wasting even a second, he slowly began to drag the knife down the man's throat in as straight of a line as he could manage, never going any deeper even as he skimmed over the bucking Adam's apple and traced down to the dip between his collarbones. Only then did he pull his hand back, wiping the bloodied tip off on the man's jeans and watching with interest as blood sprang to the surface and began dribbling scarlet tears down into the collar of his white shirt. In their path, they left the palest of tracks.

The sight reawakened Dick's smirk and he let it bubble up like the blood, only letting it dribble away as the man began the part of the act where he'd pretend to still be unfazed.

"Save your breath," the ebony snarled with a lifeless frown, guiding the man's head back so he'd have better access to the wound.

His eyes traced the line for a long moment, carefully plotting his next move before it came to mind and he ducked in closer, touching one hand to the man's shoulder and the blade to the middle of the incision. The man jerked, but Dick only tsked.

"You didn't stay to hear it, but when you shot him, he screamed. His eyes went wide and he dropped to the ground, clawing where your bullet ripped through, helplessly screaming until he was hoarse," Dick spoke slowly, the words spilling like fine velvet as he pressed the knife into the pale throat and ever so slowly began tracing it out horizontally to the right.

When he had gone far enough, he retreated back to the center and repeated the action just as slowly to the left side. A fine looking t marked the trembling pale neck, nearly shrouded by the blood that was starting a decent flow into the shirt's collar that swallowed each droplet hungrily.

"You see, I bet you're thinking that I want you to scream too. That I want you clawing and sobbing until your throat is raw," Dick backed up and wiped his blade off again, inspecting the dulled shine on it with a slight frown, "but I'm not that nice. No. You couldn't hear his screams... so why should I hear yours?"

Backing off completely, the teen strode softly across the room to a thin metal tray that held an array of silver objects that caught and held his attention for a few nerve racking minutes that had the captive shivering in fear.

"I didn't kill him!" the man tried to scream, but speaking only increased the blood flow down his throat which instinctively dropped his voice to a breath, "Please... have mercy."

There was a soft 'clink' as Dick laid the blade to rest on the tray and the man gave a relieved sigh, the faintest of tears slipping from the corner of his eye. His throat pulsed in intervals matching his frantic heartbeat and he was forgetting how to breathe with each passing second. The sigh was cut short as he noticed a smaller flash of metal in the gloved hand when the teen returned to his side.

"Why? Because _you_ did?" the ebony mocked, the windows in his mask that served for his eyes narrowing into small slits.

He widened his palm and showed the man the small scalpel in his hand, letting him examine it until his head rolled away with a terrified groan. The noise twitched Dick's lips up into a sadistic smirk.

"In actuality, I should've used this to make the incision," he noted, poking the tip with his finger before properly gripping it. "I just thought using my knife would scare you a bit more."

Just as he touched the scalpel to the blood-soaked skin, a thought seemed to cross his mind and he backed off again, causing the man to slump happily. The happiness was sucked away again just as quick as the teen returned with a little metal chair that he quickly turned around and set right in front of his captive. Not wasting any time, he straddled the chair and peered at the incision.

"Now, please note, any squirming will ultimately result in you dying. I recommend you stay still, although I don't demand it."

And like that, he pressed the scalpel just under the incision and slowly started to separate the suddenly milky flesh from the muscle beneath. He worked with the precision of a surgeon, each little cut exact and even until he had peeled back the majority of the man's throat. The muscles beneath were exposed to the musty air of the dark warehouse. They pulsed if you stared hard enough, holding the frantic heartbeat trapped just barely below as tight as they could.

As Dick stared, hands trembling with excitement with all the possibilities he was left with, a small smirk flit over his lips. All the power at his fingertips trapped within the tiny scalpel was whelming. But then, it all shattered.

"You monster."

The two words were spat sorely through a trembling voice, two tear-filled eyes narrowed tight in his direction. They drained Dick's face for the final time that night, dropping the scalpel to the ground and lifting him to his feet. He promptly folded the chair up and returned it to its position against the wall with a grudging clatter. He stalked over to the metal tray and slipped his knife back into his utility belt, face drained until he was left there in his domino mask.

He paused a moment, hands tight in fists until a deep breath soothed them back into calmness and he walked carefully to the man's side again. Of all the things he longed to do, putting Alfred through some pretty messy laundry wasn't one, so he restrained himself.

"Have fun with the rats," Dick deadpanned, eyes narrowing to return the glare for just a second before he left the warehouse, locking it tight behind him.

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**-F.J. III**


End file.
